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Sheriff Hemlock (The Late Unpleasantness)
The story of the Late Unpleasantness, as related by sheriff Belor Hemlock The Late Unpleasantness As you depart the crypts, leaving the distraught Father Zantus behind with his boneyard keeper, Hemlock’s gaze lingers on the priest for a time, seemingly distracted, disturbed about something more than what you had just witnessed. Finally he shakes his head and returns his appraising gaze to you, weighing something in his mind as you begin your walk back to the Dragon… finally, he grunts, as if resigning himself to some decision or other, and begins to speak. “A few years back, this town had some… problems. One of the local noble families, the Kaijitsu’s, well the wife took her own life unexpectedly and Lonjiku’s never been the same since, not that he was ever a ray of sunshine. Ameiko neither, though she’s born up better than some expected. Tough, that girl.” “There was also the fire that burned down the church of course - that’s something I’ll let Zantus tell you about if you can get him in a mood to discuss it, but it took the life of our last priest, Father Tobyn who was much-loved and respected around here. That fire took its toll on the town - wasn't just the church that burned that night - but it was hardly the last thing, or the worst.” He stops at a crossroads in the middle of town and nods off in the distance towards the shoreline. “That’s Chopper’s Isle, or that’s what they call it now at any rate... any of you heard that story yet?" He pauses and then shrugs before continuing on,“No, I imagine that’s the last sort of thing anyone would want to bring up during a festival. Anyway, there was this eccentric old woodcarver who lived up there named Jervis Stoot. People thought he was crazy when he decided to build a house up there - the climb’s treacherous enough and you just knew the old fool was going to break his neck one night heading home after pulling a cork or two… but he did it anyway. The fella had a gift, a real talent for woodcarving - especially birds. He was always turning this bit of wood or that into the most remarkable carvings of birds, looked like they’d come to life in your hand. But that wasn’t the half of it...” The Sheriff paused again and wandered over to the corner of one of the buildings, light spilling from its shuttered windows. With a dirty boot he kicked at the wall there, at a section that was covered in rough scratches and some soot stain. “Jervis had this gift, see. He’d be wandering around town, minding his own business, and then suddenly just stop. He said he could see birds in the wood, just trying to get free. Never knew where or when he’d make one of his discoveries. Sometimes fence posts, sometimes the entire side of a barn, but wherever it was he’d get permission from whoever he had to to whittle or carve the bird out of it. The results were always impressive and it got to where it was quite the thing to 'sport a Stoot’. Word got out of course and people started asking him to do pieces for them - doors or signs or even just bits they could sell off in Magnimar or gift to friends - but he never took any money, and he never carved but where he saw the birds already. In his mind they were just trying to get free and he was helping them.” “That was all well and good for a time - I was a guardsman then, Captain Casp - Casp Avertin - he was the man in charge of the watch. Hell of a man too. Anyway, we never had much crime to deal with, small town like this - the occasional husband beating on his wife a little or a tussle over cards or drink or a girl. Most incidents were accidents or heat of the moment type things… but it was around the same time of the church burning that we started getting people showing up dead. Actual murders, and not just one or two.” The Sheriff pointed at one house across the way, and then another, and then another... Harold Swisher, the butcher’s nephew… Alise Pennsworth, tailor and mother to five… Bartholomew Bilk who’d retired years before and never did much more than sit on his stool and watch the world go by. All dead now. The bodies started turning up missing their eyes and tongue and all cut up to hell and it caused a terrible fright for the people this town. No one had any idea who was doing it either which was the worst part.” He grimaced and started walking once more. “More’n 20 people died that summer, the last one was the Captain himself. He came across the Chopper - that’s what everyone was calling him by then - just when he was he was cutting on poor little Kili, the miller’s girl - and tried to grab him. Chopper got him too, but not before old Casp got his licks in and yelled for the watch. We were able to follow the blood trails the bastard left behind, followed them all the way to the breakwater.” He paused, letting that sink in a moment before shrugging. “We didn’t figure it at first, thought maybe the Chopper had just gone to kill Stoot next. But when we got up to that house of his we found all kinds of terrible things - some sort of altar, eyes and tongues from everyone he’d killed laid out along with his own. Bastard had died before we could reach him.” A deep breath was taken and then let out slow. “Anyway, his body was blessed and then burned, that old house torn down and nobody’s really gone up to the Isle since. Just birds now, which was probably what Stoot would have wanted before that madness took him, bless his soul. If you hear anyone talking about the ‘Late Unpleasantness’, that’s what they'’re referring to, that time of troubles a few years back. Things been pretty good since - peaceful - til what happened tonight, of course. The four of you reach the Dragon finally and he looks you up and down, each in turn. “What you people did today was a service, one I appreciate and I know the Mayor does as well. Sandpoint’s managed to put what happened behind them and they don’t need no more troubles. I want to thank you.” The Sheriff extends his hand, taking each of yours and giving it a good shake, pausing to offer a smile to the girl. “Now get inside and eat something. Warm your bellies and your feet a bit. Ameiko’s got some of her venison stew on, I can smell it, and from where I’m standing, you folks have earned a bit of rest and whatever appreciation you get offered. I hope we speak again, before you leave town.” Category:Exposition